


Five Times Eric Made Michael Laugh (And One Time He Didn't)

by katie_wilson



Category: Monty Python RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Five Times - One Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_wilson/pseuds/katie_wilson
Summary: Five times Eric could create a smile on Michael's face during their lives. One time, he couldn't. Almost.





	Five Times Eric Made Michael Laugh (And One Time He Didn't)

_1\. Edinburgh_

 

When was the last time Michael laughed? Well, he is a jolly person, but the genuine laughter hadn't been heard from him since he got accepted to the university. He sometimes played funny farces with his best friend, Terry Jones, but all of the learning and catching up with studies had taken a good part of his energy. 

One day, Terry came to him with a tempting offer. "Mike, you surely know about the Edinburgh Festival of Theatre, right?"

Michael looked up from a History book and frowned at his friend. "I do, I do. The chaps from Footlights go there, I heard." 

"Well," Terry started, smiling, "the chaps from Footlights are in a need of some good comedians. They've seen you and me play the other day and said they'd be keen on taking both of us there." He waited for Michael to speak up, but got only a blank stare. "Are you interested?"

The brown-haired boy realised he wasn't paying attention and jerked his head. "Well, I say, maybe..."

"What do you mean 'maybe'? It was a simple yes or no question!" Terry joked and sat next to his friend on a sofa. 

"I... I don't know what to say, Tel. I'm really gobsmacked, shocked, happy, but on the other hand scared that they'd be disappointed with us, are you catching up?" Michael said honestly. 

"Don't worry," Terry comforted him and put a friendly arm around Michael's shoulders. "They know, what to expect from us, so they won't be giving us more than two pages of script." It worked and Michael didn't have to think about stressing himself too much about it. 

So, the other day, they were off from the friendly ground of Oxford to hostile Cambridge. "I heard there's a six-footer with a good body gesture. And he has a beard, too!" exclaimed Terry.

"Well, for a six-footer, he should be able to control his limbs perfectly," Michael smiled, but the grin faded away as fast as it came. 

The road to Scotland was really long for Michael. They were all seated in a short bus, he and Terry behind the tall chap and his friend, who was constantly chuffing on a wooden pipe. And surviving the long ride was a difficult task to complete for Michael, but he eventually fell asleep halfway to the festival.

He woke up with jabbing in his ribs. "Mike, wake up. We're in Edinburgh!" almost shouted Terry and darted out of his seat outside the bus. Michael just sighed and followed his over-excited friend. 

He wasn't expecting this to be a great move in his career - somehow - and he said this to Terry, too, when he shouted at him that he was going to see other comedians play. And he was glad he did it. 

One particular farce made him squirm with laughter, and that was the laughter he was supposed to have, when at Oxford. It was a new sort of comedy than he was used to and he fancied it. No, he _loved_ it. The lad playing a reporter, who was talking really fast, impressed him so much that when he accidentally bumped to him and made him drop his coat and bag, he was laughing and rushing to his knees to help him at the same time. 

"I-I'm really sorry, I was miles away," Michael apologised. "Hey, I saw you up there. You were jolly great. Much better than your mates!"

The blonde chap laughed. "Ta, really. They're not my friends, to be honest." He stretched out his hand and smiled. "I'm Eric Idle."

"Michael Palin. I'm glad it was you, who finally made me laugh."

\-----  
_2\. Do Not Adjust Your Set_

 

"Terry, we have the opportunity to have our own programme. And not only the thing about _Britain_. A real one with fresh sketches, scenes on point, new people..."

The black-haired boy shot Michael a funny look and let him in his house. "And how did you manage to get your own- know what; I don't think I want to get that gen. I'm just really happy for us. But... who would be the 'new people'?"

"That's the best part," smiled Michael, sitting down. "I know a certain comedian. He was a part of _At Last the 1948 Show_."

"Wait, don't you mean-" started Terry, but Michael was faster to finish the sentence.

"Unfortunately, it's not John Cleese. But Tim Brooke-Taylor said it'd be a great fun with us! Isn't that perfect?"

"It's brill, of course, but if that's it, I don't really know, Mike..." 

Michael knew Terry and his cautious character, so he carried on. "Oh, not entirely, no. Say, Terry, do you know Eric Idle? I introduced you two in Edinburgh." And that was it. He didn't have to say anything more and his friend was around his neck, all jolly that they're about to have their own show. 

They met with Eric in his house. Terry couldn't arrive because of his family coming around, so it was on Michael to write his very own first sketch with Eric Idle. When they shook hands and did all the formalities, he noticed Eric had a guitar hung on the wall. 

"Oh, yes, I play a tad. I don't flaunt it, but I know a few chords to get birds in bed," he laughed. 

"I'd say so. It's certainly not the looks," Michael grinned, mesmerized by the way the guitar was shaped. It was exactly the same shape as George Harrison's one. "Could you play me sowt?"

"I was afraid you'd never ask," said Eric and rushed for the guitar. "I wrote a work of my own, if you wouldn't mind. I thought it'd be perfect for the programme."

He played the first chords and sang a song about... Feet? But that only added for Michael to laugh for full two minutes of the song, clap hands and mockingly shout the name of his friend during the number. They were definitely onto something good.

\-----  
_3\. Match of the Day_

 

And they couldn't bear it anymore. John's behaviour was starting to be annoying to all four of the Pythons - Graham was, of course, oblivious to the happening, because he started to drink an amount of alcohol not suitable to anyone. But the others were pretty sure that even he knew something was off. 

Even though, they tried to have a good time working on the third season of _Flying Circus_. John found a certain joy in hurting his colleagues throughout the show and nobody really cared, because it was funny and a few episodes back, Michael even enjoyed being slapped by a fish in the face, subsequently then falling down. 

Now, it was the time, when the six-footer was nark and the mood around couldn't be born anymore. Michael was sitting down, smoking a cig and looking everywhere but at his friends. 

"Hey, you're looking quite bad. What's the matter?" asked Eric, joining him on the grass. 

Michael took a long drag and then doused the cigarette butt in the droplets of dew. "It's nothing. Just John, but that's a problem of all of us." 

"Right, it's him again. Have you read the script yet?" Eric asked.

"Of course I have! I'm not Gray, you know."

"I'm joking, don't worry. What do you think's the funniest part of this episode?"

"Eric, I have no idea. Perhaps the Children story. What do you think?"

"Well, I, on the other hand, think the Match of the Day is a good idea. You know; the constant celebrating of footballers is pretty daft sometimes."

"You're saying this just because you have scripted to jump right into my arms," snickered the slightly younger boy. 

Eric jabbed him in the ribs and stood up. "You love me anyway! Now, leg up. I need to rehearse my roles." 

Both Eric and Michael took off their minds of John and soon, they were finally filming the episode. Graham, as always, was professional, even though he couldn't just stop chewing on his pipe, and everyone made it to the last part of the episode, which was the sketch about the celebrating football players. 

It was pretty cold in January. Terry and Graham didn't have to worry much about it, because the latter could do it in the first two takes - and everyone was sure Graham enjoyed being this close to the Welshman. But Michael was shivering more each minute that passed and Eric jumping on him didn't help either. 

At least, that's what was going through his head before shooting the scene. It took four times, because Michael couldn't maintain the blonde in his arm or he was in a bad angle for a camera. 

"Come off it, Mike. I'm sure you're cold, I'm not better, so I can either kick you into doing this right or we both end up on the field, catching the body heat of the other one deliberately. What do you say?" The straightness in the sentence gave Michael enough courage to do the scene on point this time, ending in a laughing fit on the ground with Eric on top of him. 

"You have nice grey eyes." Michael didn't even register saying that. It was probably from the need of warmness and Eric being the biggest source of it. 

"They're blue, actually, but that's because you're too close to identify anything at all," joked Eric and they were laughing again, until they had to run inside, so they won't catch a cold. 

\-----  
_4. ~~The Beatles~~ The Rutles_

 

Michael still had no idea, how did he get this close to George Harrison. _The_ George Harrison from The Beatles. It was like a dream. Eric took him to the filming and he just happened to be there, too, because he's friends with Eric. And the best thing was that George immediately turned to him, saying that he was a big fan of Monty Python.

Eric was standing further from them in his costume of Dirk McQuickly - Michael thought he looked more like Paul McCartney than Paul McCartney looks like himself - and talked to Neil, while Michael was being interviewed by George. The whole thing was hilarious, but Michael still had something to say to his old friend.

The one and only thing about this "department" of Pythons, which he couldn't stand, was the rise of his friends. John with _Fawlty Towers_ , Gilliam and his own movies, now Eric... He didn't even count in _Ripping Yarns_ , because the whole concept was Terry's idea. 

Michael's eybrows drew down and his nose wrinkled a tad from thinking. It was a fluke the scene was done already. As soon as Eric saw Michael turning away, he excused himself from Neil and ran after his friend. 

"Hey, ol' mate. Is everything all-right? Did George say something to you?" Eric asked and put his arm around Michael's shoulders, leading him further from the set. 

"No, no, George is a brilliant friend. What a lucky chap you are!" Michael sighed. "It's just... you all have this always going career and it seems like I've been doing nothing all days." 

"Oh, don't say that. You have your role in _Jabberwocky_ , haven't you?" 

"Jonesy was there, too. And Gilliam as well, how come. I want to have something of my own, you know."

"I assure you that in the near future the film you're searching for will land in your hands on his own. Now, come on; we have to get going. I can't stand this beard much longer. I sometimes wonder how could any of the Beatles survive it having this on their faces then." 

"You're a hypocrite, you know that?" Michael laughed and put his hands in Eric's beard. "You had exactly the same one on the set of _Jabberwocky_ , even longer!" They stared at each other for a while, then Michael's hand ran down Eric's bass guitar. "You look stunning in that suit." 

Eric grinned and took a small step towards the younger man. "You saw me in a suit a thousand times, yet you managed to tell me this now."

"Okay, I'll specify that; you look stunning in this suit portraying Paul McCartney. Better?" Michael realised how close they had suddenly become and started back towards where all the cameras were. 

"Wait up, I'll get you for this one!" shouted wittily Eric, took the bass guitar in his hand and ran after Michael. 

\-----  
_5\. The Meaning of Life_

 

"Michael, could you please be handy and fetch me my pictures? I think I left them in the office," asked Terry Gilliam and started to put on a costume he was told to wear. Michael's eyebrows went straight up. "I pressume you don't know where the office is. Eric, can you go with him? We don't think we need you now, so just go." After his words, he immediately focused on the set and navigated each person what to do.

Eric heard, fortunately, took Michael by his arm and walked towards one of the rooms in the building. _He clearly knows his ways around,_ thought Michael, when they got into a room established specially for Gilliam with lots of cardboard cuts laying around and pictures on a string hanging from the ceiling. When they found a stack of pictures on a working table and got out of the messy room, Eric took a shortcut through one of the other rooms they were supposed to shoot the movie later. 

It surprised them both, when they stumbled across a classroom, where John did a lot of explaining about sex. 

"Mike, do you want to break the rules?" snickered Eric and didn't even wait for an answer; he simply pushed down the blackboard, so it became a bed. Michael remember trying it the first time and the amazement still didn't go away. And the excitement about his friend's idea only strengthened the jolliness. 

He was the first one to jump on the bed and start laughing uncontrollably. Soon, he was followed by the blonde and he jumped up and down a while, until his legs became too tired. Eric laid down next to Michael with both arms under his head, elbows touching with him. 

"Do you ever think what would happen, if we weren't to meet in Edinburgh?" asked Eric and sighed. "I don't think about it, but... it takes two to have a proper opinion."

"I'm not sure you think at all," mocked Michael, placing his closer arm around the man's head. Eric wanted to laugh, but he heard a tapping and put his hand on Michael's mouth to avoid being caught.

"Of course, make fun of me, you stupid English git!" Eric whispered and when he no longer heard the sound, he let his friend elicit one of the loudest laughs he's ever heard from him. 

"But I don't fancy the idea of us not being together. I like you and your humour too much," Michael then said affectionately and turned on his side. 

Eric did the same and faced Michael. "I know, and you still put up with me, so there must be sowt in it." Eric could just lean in and brush his lips over the soft ones belonging to Michael. He was slowly moving his head and closed his eyes. 

Only soft calling from outside made Michael realise that they had to find Terry Gilliam's pictures and bring them to him. "We should get going." He smiled at his own childish behaviour, but stood up anyway, giving a helping hand to Eric. 

\-----  
_6\. Private Function_

 

Eric promised to meet him for lunch after he'll be finished with shooting his new movie. However, looking around the restaurant, he didn't see the chap anywhere. He searched every place his mind could come up with. Once Michael got into the hotel he was staying at, he almost gave up on finding Eric.

Almost.

He found Eric in his hotel room, positioned on his bed with what looked like a cigarette, but Michael already knew. 

"That's surely not a ciggy, right?" he snickered and sat next to Eric. 

"And that's not a knock on the door; well, life's a piece of shit when you look at it," answered nonchalantly Eric and took a drag from the white stick. Then he handed it to Michael without looking at him. "It'll ease you off."

He took it, but instead of smoking, he put aside in the ashtray. "No, thanks. It smells funny anyway and I'm not wasting my time with it."

"At least give it back, you arse!" laughed the blonde and leaned heavily on Michael to snatch back the pot, but ended up on top of him, his face buried in the fabric of Michael's button-up shirt. "I fancy yer shirt, you know. You look like a lumberjack in it."

"I am okay and everything, but you're quite heavy," joked the younger man. But Eric didn't feel like moving at all, so he just settled on the bed and put his arm around Eric's back. 

"That's better. I could stay with my lumberjack all day!" Eric nuzzled into Michael's body even more and hugged him tightly. 

"You like me even more than I thought," thought Michael out loud. 

"I said it at least a thousand times, you dafter. Can you please stop moving, so I can lay and fall asleep on you?"

Michael's laughter sounded through the room once again and he put his hand in Eric's hair. Eric's smile could be felt through Mike's shirt and as Michael was mesmerized by Eric's hair, he alone looked up with his light eyes. 

"When are you going to kiss me already?" Michael choked on his saliva. 

"What do you mean 'already'?" Michael looked up. "I thought you loved making me just laugh. That won't even conjure a smile." But he couldn't even finish the sentence, when Eric's clumsy lips met his. Though Michael knew it was a completely spontaneous idea and he didn't respond at first, he always wanted to know, how Eric tasted. Now, it was a mixture of smoke, peppermint, chocolate and God knows what else. But he enjoyed it, because they were Eric's lips. They were as soft as he imagined them to be.


End file.
